Why I built this

I started Tirzepatide to lose weight, but that's not really where it starts. Obesity runs through my father's side of the family, almost all of them. My mother had bariatric surgery. My brother is on the same medication I'm on now. I watched all of that happen before it was ever about me.

Then it was my turn. I'm 48, in perimenopause, and my body started changing faster than I could keep up with. At two very different weights, years apart, the exact same clothes fit me. It was never really about the number on the scale. But now, I can't even shop in regular stores anymore. Only plus size. This wasn't a cosmetic decision.

When people found out I was on Tirzepatide, or Mounjaro, whatever you want to call it, I'd hear that I was taking the shortcut. That I just needed to move more and eat less. The worst was from men, who didn't know any of my history or my reasons. And even if they did, it was none of their business anyway. And you want to know the irony of all this? I'd already tried that advice. Every time before, I lost weight eating the same amount, just healthier. This time it didn't move.

For a while, the stories about side effects almost talked me out of it too. What changed things was one real conversation with my family's nutritionist, the same person who supports my siblings. He was honest about everything that can go wrong. And everything that can go right.

The medication does make me eat less, but not the extreme, low-calorie diets you see all over the internet. It's a normal amount, enough to fuel my day, just less than before. What changed, with his guidance, is the balance of it: protein, timing, real nutrition, not just less food. It's not about eating less. It's about eating smarter.

What nobody warns you about is how much work the treatment itself is. Remembering to eat, even when the food noise disappears and your appetite goes quiet for the first time in your life. Getting enough protein. Drinking enough water. Moving your body. Taking your vitamins. Following a diet careful enough to avoid nausea. And doing all of it around a full life, work, a house, kids, that doesn't pause to make room for any of it.

I went looking for an app that could hold all of it in one place, reminders, protein, labs, my diet plan, my doctor, a place to note how my body was reacting week to week. I couldn't find one. I would have needed three or four apps stitched together to get what I needed.

So I started building it for myself. Around the same time, my company cut the budget. Paid tools were out. Every manager was pushed to figure things out with AI instead of developers. The moment we started learning it, they started cutting developers under us. I ended up making my whole life easier with AI, not depending on developers at all. I found my own solutions. I improved faster, with better results, using my own tools. That's when I found out I could actually build things, and I fell in love with it.

So what started as something meant to be just for me, fast turned (couple of weeks) into the full shape of Zorya: not just a tracker, but a companion, a bridge to the professionals supporting people on the same road, including the ones who gave up, not because it didn't work, but because nobody walked them through it.

Today, Zorya is a real healthcare platform. Patients and professionals connect on it. A professional can keep an eye on you without waiting for the next appointment. Lab results reach them right away. Nutrition plans are built ad-hoc, targeted just for your diet, not generic. Sometimes it's just a pack of recipes, to help you vary your everyday meals. A personal trainer doesn't need to stop and study during your time together. They already have your results, any time, so they can plan your next set of exercises ahead of it. Your session together stays hands-on. The same goes for your nutritionist, your doctor. Having all of that in one place speeds up every appointment, and makes it better.

Building it made me happy in a way I hadn't expected. I'd lose hours in it without noticing. Somewhere in those weeks, something in me shifted. I stopped seeing myself as just an employee, waiting for someone else to decide what I was capable of. I could build something real, on my own. That changed how I saw myself.

I made it through because I went in informed. I want the same for everyone else standing where I was. As we say in Brazil: ninguém solta a mão de ninguém, nobody lets go of anyone's hand. We're in this together.